


Akela Amador, Five Weeks Later

by MissIzzy



Series: Walking Behind With a Bucket [36]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-17 05:11:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17553998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissIzzy/pseuds/MissIzzy
Summary: So much for not violating her parole.





	Akela Amador, Five Weeks Later

Akela’s lucky, she supposes, that she avoided violating her parole for this long after half the world died and the other half went to shit. She’s aware she’s only out because Coulson pulled some final strings, right before he became a wanted man again and vanished. When Mike Peterson paid her a visit a month after that, his preposition wasn’t even one she objected to, not really.

Still, it’s anxiety-raising, traveling into and across most of Canada with what definitely counts as contraband-at least one of her items definitely has vibranium in it-stuffed into the backseat cushions, headed for the home of an Inhuman who’s just crossing his fingers no one will ever look into him too closely. They provided her with a fake passport and even a device sewn in with the contraband to keep them from triggering any metal detectors, and she got safely across the border, but she’ll still have to take everything to New York City after this.

She pulls up to the small Winnipeg house at a little past 11 AM local time. They deliberately scheduled for a time when Joey Gutierrez would be home alone. Although his boyfriend does apparently know what’s going on; Gutierrez wasn’t willing to not tell him.

Akela thinks she sees him at the window while she pulls the small but heavy bundle out of the cushions, but he doesn’t come out. She has to carry it to the door before he finally thinks to help her, opening it before raising his hand and summoning the bundle into it. “So what am I supposed to do with these, exactly?”

“The instructions are in there,” Akela tells him. “I got the impression I wouldn’t understand them, but you should. Also you can keep the scrap metal.”

Gutierrez chuckles slightly, then beckons her in as he heads into the living room. It’s a comfy-looking place, with an old dark blue couch and two semi-matching armchairs. The coffee table, end tables, and TV stand are all metallic, and look very much like Gutierrez shaped them. They’re rather organic-looking, with graceful curled edges, and she wonders how long he spent on them. She looks at the pictures on them, the kind she wishes she had to put around her own place.

He lays all the objects out on the floor, then has to bend down to pick up the notepad. He spends several minutes just flipping through it, looking like he’s rereading more than once. “You do understand, them right?” Akela asks. She really does not want to have to call anyone.

“More or less, but this is some complicated work; I even have to make sure everything ends up a specific density. Why they asked me to do this, I guess. Don’t suppose you even know where this is ultimately going?”

She shrugs. “I’m taking it to New York City. I’m meeting a man in the wooded part of Central Park who is only identified as ‘Happy.’ Except his photo keeps making me think I’ve seen him somewhere before.” She pulls it out and shows him.

That, too, Gutierrez spends a bit of time looking at. “He does look familiar. Maybe you can try to remember while I get this done.”

Watching him work is fascinating. At the direction of his hands, metal outright melts off objects and flows through the air like liquid, wrapping itself around and welding itself to other objects; the tiny bit of vibranium gleaming as he splits it from the rest. She watches different kinds of metal cocoon two power cells, weave itself in with rubber-wrapped wires, merge itself into some more blocks of metal, and then latch onto the light bulbs when Joey puts them in place. “I think this is some sort of rocket,” he says.

“Looks like,” she agrees. “Hope it’s safe to carry around encased in a cushion.”

“I do know enough about these things to say it is. I really need to concentrate for this part…” He’s placed the rocket down on the coffee table, and he just stares at it, until Akela has to figure he’s doing the part with the density.

The whole process takes longer than they were hoping. By the time Gutierrez finally says, “That’s it; it’s ready,” it’s nearly 3 PM. He seems startled when he looks at the clock by the TV. “You know,” he says, “my boyfriend’ll probably be home in a couple of hours. If you stayed for dinner…”

Akela doesn’t know how much practical difference that would make; they told her no time this needed to get to New York by. She knows she’s supposed to leave immediately anyway; that’s always how these things work. Yet she’s honestly tempted to say yes. It’s been so long since she got to just spend easy time with company. Back before everything happened to her, she never wanted company, but well, that was then.

But this boyfriend is a stranger, and she’s pretty sure they’ll all be uneasy with each other, and worry about the delay having dire consequences won’t help that situation. “Thanks,” she says, “but no thanks,” and she wishes it wasn’t so easy to slip back into her old sardonic tone as she adds, “Help me get that out to the car and hidden in the seat, will you?”


End file.
